06-13-2009, 11:02 PM
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“Blood,” she answered simply. Then he had her, pressed against his body and searching for her throat. The pale woman remained loose, and let his prying muzzle seek out whatever it was he was after. She felt him as she might the salt in the ocean or the clay in the earth. He was present, he was real, but he was only a part of a greater scheme. The pied wolf was something special, of that she had no doubt. But that did not make him more important to her then Bane, or the Cyclops, or the men that had come before them.
She listened to him, eyes focused on inky black pools, and thought of the bird and the snake. “Show me,” she said; it was neither a demand nor a request. This man, whoever he was, was the type for neither. What he gave to her would be at his discretion; and what she took would be her own. That unnatural fire continued to burn behind her eyes, gleaming mirthlessly in the moonlight.
She listened to him, eyes focused on inky black pools, and thought of the bird and the snake. “Show me,” she said; it was neither a demand nor a request. This man, whoever he was, was the type for neither. What he gave to her would be at his discretion; and what she took would be her own. That unnatural fire continued to burn behind her eyes, gleaming mirthlessly in the moonlight.